


Once Upon a Time, In a Duchy in Austria

by viiemzee



Series: The Karnstein Backstory [4]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Backstory, F/F, F/M, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2643332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiemzee/pseuds/viiemzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sort of sequel to 'Small Realizations'. Exploring Carmilla's backstory involving that line about kids in 1698 'drinking champagne and dancing like fools'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Time, In a Duchy in Austria

You were a group of friends, born into royalty together and thrust into lives you weren’t sure you even wanted, and trying to cope with everything together in the only ways you knew how. Between taking long country rides to clear your heads and staying up long past acceptable hours, indulging in the latest opiate, you found ways to cope.

You were four friends, and always had been this way. Melissa was born to a family just as wealthy as yours, and a destiny that way surpassed anybody else’s. She was meant for great things, for a great marriage, for the ruling of a small nation, if it was possible.

Marcellus wasn’t so great – at least, not as great as you. He was handsome, however, and kind and gentle, and he loved music. He was the perfect husband, really. Enough money to keep himself going for a while, and of a respectable background.

Ludwig was the richest of you all, and he never let anyone forget it. You might have called him conceited had you not known him as well as you did. He was nice enough when he wasn’t travelling the world, but he always redeemed himself with presents for you all when he came back. Sometimes you went months without seeing him, but he always came back with a new story to tell.

You were four friends who could only survive if you were together.

* * *

The dangers of the outside world, beyond your borders of this side of Austria, meant little when your most common concerns where drinks and dances.

Balls were tedious at first, until you were all old enough to attend together. Then they became worth knowing. You all four enjoyed dressing up, meeting at your castle early, all dressed up and ready to stir a storm, riding in Marcellus’ carriage to the event, already slightly drunk, the world spinning below your feet slightly as you stumbled up the steps. Ludwig held onto you too strongly sometimes – always you, never Melissa – but you both always made it to the top of the stairs and into the ballroom in one piece.

You were the four nobody dared kick out, lest they offend anyone, but if only they could.

You drank as much as you could muster, waltzed together – just the four of you, no cut ins allowed – and caused quite the commotion when Ludwig and Marcellus gave up you or Melissa for each other, and then you would turn to your best friend and extend an arm and dance with her, laughing the entire way. 

Your affection for the three of them was clear, and they extended the same. And everybody knew how close you all were.

Balls weren’t complete, however, until you got high too.

That wasn’t what you used to call it. You called it ‘indulging in joy’ back then, smoking opium down to its core on moonlit balconies, away from the disapproving stares of parents (if they even cared enough to disapprove). You hated the act itself, but you loved the feeling it gave you. The world burst into colour, and your friends were there, and there was no better feeling in the world.

* * *

Your first time, you remember, you were saved from an annoying older male with an intense gaze by Marcellus, who swung you into his arms and told you to take a walk with him. You were glad to have gotten rid of that stranger, and even gladder when Marcellus kissed you, hesitantly, surely, in the back garden near the fountain. You didn’t protest when you fell into bed with him that night; why would you? He was a friend, and your friendship meant more than a one night tryst at a party.

Besides, you knew he was secretly very in love with Ludwig. You knew that you were a replacement.

Just as much as he was to you.

* * *

The older you got, the more you drank, the more suitors you chased away with your attitude and manners, the more you realized that it was just the men you chased away.

And the more you noticed the way Melissa looked at you over champagne glasses.

Oh, you knew she was to be married one day, but that didn’t stop you both from having a bit of fun. Many was the time you took a different carriage home to Marcellus and Ludwig, arriving at yours in the early morning hours, Melissa in tow, her hands shaky but sliding effortlessly over your skin at the same time. It was torture to contain yourself until you got to your bedroom, really; it was delicious how good she was at it.

Nothing compared to nights after balls.

* * *

You may not remember much, but you do remember your last night.

There were a number of young people there that night, your age, maybe older, but you were all there drinking and indulging, eating and joking around. The four of you sat together, observing the slightly older adults dancing and flirting, and you laughed because that would be you in two, three years time.

You danced with Ludwig and watched Marcellus and Melissa talk among themselves, and you almost forgot that you had a rule that nobody would ever cut in between the four of you, because next thing you know you were saying yes to a blonde gentleman who wanted to dance.

He was one of the older crowd, there for the night, wealthy guests the host had invited.

You never saw your friends again.

* * *

Your last, fond memory, at least, of your friends who were destined for wealthy marriages and great things, was sitting on a balcony, glass of champagne each, already slightly happy off opium, staring up at the night sky. Melissa linked her arm with yours and smiled at you, her fingers tracing your arm lightly.

“Let’s go dance,” she whispered.

At least your last memory of them is happy.


End file.
